The Dirty Mattress We Lay On
by OrganicVoodoo
Summary: There was nothing. Yet, I had everything. I had everything I ever desired. All because of him. I had no home, no running water, no food. But I had him.. Yaoi ReixBryan Rated M for cussing.


Okay, I have no idea why I started writing this

It just came to me. I'm pretty sure it's a one-shot. But I might turn it into something! D:

Summary: There was nothing. Yet, I had everything. I had everything I ever desired. All because of him. I had no home, no running water, no food. But I had him.. Yaoi ReixBryan

**Warning: MANLOOOVVEE! Because it's awesome. I don't go into great detail though.**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own beyblade, or any of its characters. I am not publicly displaying this story, I write solely for the readers entertainment. Any lyrics, product names, or brands are found, they belong to their rightful owners. Any unknown characters are created by me, blah, blah, blah..

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There was nothing. Yet, I had everything. I had everything I ever desired. All because of him. I had no home, no running water, no food. But I had him. For years I fussed over all the little things. I fretted over the things that I would soon throw away.

I should thank him. The moment he came up to me and said those three little words, was the moment that I realized I needed nothing but him.

"You're so beautiful," he said. I turned to him in shock, I was not aware of the beauty he thought I had. I stood by him, frozen. This poor homeless man who I had never met before, told me that I was beautiful. At that moment, I knew he was mine. At that moment, I knew I was his.

That night I gave my heart to a man I never met. That night I slept with a man for the first time. I loved every minute of it. This was the beginning of my new life. In my heart I knew that I was in Nirvana.

"I don't even know your name," I collapsed on the dirty mattress that was covered in our scent, our climaxes.

"My name is Bryan."

"Mine is Rei." I looked up to him, fitting his name with his face. The face I will never forget. His strong cheek bones. His broad nose. His beautiful lavender hair, cut short as to prevent dreadlocks, his silver eyes which seemed to glow when I gazed into them, he was strong and soft. He was smooth and rugged. He was what I always wanted. He took my chin and kissed me furiously. It surprised me on how delicious he was. I wasn't even sure if he brushed his teeth.

What made him so lovely to me was that he threw away everything to his name, he gave up all the things people strive for. He gave them all up for the pleasure of doing what he wants. He lived on the dirty mattress we lay on, with nothing but a guitar and the clothes on his back.

That guitar is the most blessed invention in the world. After our sex, he told me of the times the guitar saved his life.

"It saved me from the demons of the world." He exclaimed, "This guitar has fed me, kept me warm, and helped me up when I was down. All with it's music."

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"Once, while I was walking down a road I knew not of the name, with my guitar on my back, a large drunken butcher was chasing his pigs down by the field. I looked up and saw a large sign which was barely legible, but it read 'trespassers will be shot.' I realized that this was a bad place to be walking. This butcher's farm was the only home on this road, which meant he most likely owned the road as well. I was about to walk back to the main road when a hand clamped down on my shoulder. I smelled the foul odor of blood and alcohol. It was the butcher.

'What the fuck do you think you're doin'?' the butcher spoke in a gruff drunken tone. I feared for my life.

'Oh, good sir, I am a singer and songwriter. I was walking along this road until I spotted the sign, I realize that I should not be here. May you please let me go?' I tried to reason with him, hoping he was not an angry drunk. But I was wrong.

'I'mma gun' make you regret ever fuckin' came down 'his fuckin' road you sunova bitch.' he slurred at me, spitting in my face every syllable.

Without thinking, I grabbed my guitar and began to play quickly. I always promised myself I want to die with my guitar and the one I loved. I thought I'd get at least half of my wish. The chords and my lyrics seemed to touch the butcher, like the music flowed into his heart and sobered him a bit. Just enough for him to stop and listen.

I sang of the rivers and of the mountains. I sang of people I used to know. I sang of you, although I did not meet you. I knew I would.

Then, as I was singing the last bit of my made up tune, the butcher began to cry. He began sobbing uncontrollably. I finished the song, and carefully hugged him.

'That was such a beautiful song.' he cried into my shirt, 'You can go, I will not stop you. But you must come again and sing to me.'

I smiled at this, "I will, sir, I do promise. I will come back and sing for you.'

I then stopped the embrace and began to walk away from the weeping butcher. Never forgetting this man and his love of music. Never forgetting that this guitar saved me from being slaughtered like a pig." Bryan finished his story with a sad smile and a sigh.

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I looked at Bryan with wide eyes, "Did you ever go back? To sing to this man?"

"I did, he took me into his home and had me sing for his family. He gave me a dinner, a bath, and a bed. His wife cried to my music, and his two daughters danced, while he stood by me remembering our first encounter."

I closed my eyes to imagine the happiness in that family. I imagined Bryan knocking on the door softly, and the large butcher opening the door to see a purple haired vagabond with a guitar. I imagined the butcher grinning widely and welcoming him in their home. The wife happy and plump, just starting to prepare dinner, the daughters playing with dolls and giggling at one another.

"You are amazing," I whispered as I rested my head on his chest. He pulled up the torn, old blanket closer. Almost tucking me in after a bedtime story.

"No, my dear, it is you who is amazing." He kissed my forehead and rubbed my shoulder.

I fell asleep with him, and I woke up in his arms.

The next day I quit my job, put my apartment on the market, sold all my things except for some clothes, some dried food and a backpack.

Bryan and I now sing on the street. We sing about our love, about the sun, and about all the magical stories I have yet to hear. We sing about the freedom we have, and the old butcher that we now visit often.

We are homeless, we are happy, and we are in love.

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Wee! I dont know what to think about this. Review?


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